About the "best road in the world" Transfagarasan pass in Romania to Moldova

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I got this job in Switzerland. For the realization of an aid project of the Caritas I should deliver the necessary machines to Balti in Moldova.

For the 2500 km long trip two days were available to me.

On perfect roads we went with neon yellow safety vest and reserve pears through Germany, Austria and Hungary to the east.

The shortest route to Balti led through the so-called Wallachia in the north of Romania and Transylvania. Here the streets became extremely bad.

For hundreds of kilometers there were thousands of more or less deep potholes. The asphalt seemed to break loose.

When I overlooked one of them, it rumbled tremendously and I was suddenly with

two flat tires, but only one spare tire, in the pampas.

Luckily, the old farmer's rule applies: "the poorer the countries, the friendlier their inhabitants".

After just a few minutes, the first car stopped and the driver helped me with the tire change.

Flight he had a big hammer in his hand and banged my bent rims right back.

He was so successful that the tires then again held the air from his small compressor and I could continue driving.

The streets meandered through many beautiful little villages. Again and again, horse-drawn carriages came to meet me

or geese crossed my path. I was really looking forward to slowing down on the way back and taking lots of pictures.

First of all, however, I had to fulfill my mission. Dealing with the necessary customs formalities for entry into

Moldova withdrew. The customs officers simply did not know what to do with the ATA Carnet of the IHK. Also, the corrupt police tried to get bribes for speeding up.

Nobody cared about my load. I did not need a visa. The entry stamp I got easily.

Finally, at midnight, the paperwork was done by customs

and it went on, on unlighted roads farther out into the night. 200 km.

In Radio Romania Truckstop ran: "First thing in the morning that i do ... start missing you".

It was really pleasant that here the program is not constantly interrupted by superlatives or lies like "Coming right" instead of "Coming now".

Approximately 30 km before the finish, the car suddenly made strange sounds again at 100 km / h on a rough gravel road.

In the light of a cell phone display, it quickly became clear that another tire was flat. The change was now quite routine,

so that I reached my destination with only one hour late after midnight.

In Balti, I was happily received by the project manager of Kukuk Kultur ev .

He had already reserved a room in a typical Soviet hotel with drab, kilometer-long aisles.

However, there was everything you need here. Sausages and eggs for breakfast, Wi-Fi, hot water, electricity and single-layer toilet paper.

The next day we visited the construction site. In the parking lot of a hospital should be within a week

a new playground will be created. The project was supported by volunteers from the local vocational school.

I was surprised to see how enthusiastic and disciplined the guys went to work. The old asphalt was removed,

new mother earth was purchased, foundations were poured, a sandbox was laid out, and playgrounds were made of weatherproof robinia wood.

Again and again doctors looked over and admired the rapid advance.

The doctors here wore old seller clothing from the supermarket chain Tengelmann as a medical smock and respirators from the hardware store.

The sanitary facilities of the hospital also left a lot to be desired ... here the investment of other companies is in demand.

My car, which is about to be scrapped in Germany, was admired here as the new Opel model. In comparison with the local ambulance, it was with its 200,000 km also an absolute new car.

Many people on the road proudly told me that they receive child support from Germany. From the German child allowance one can live abroad like a king. You no longer need to work yourself and can buy your own house.

As a German, could I help with filling in applications for her neighbor? The language barrier is the only obstacle to the gift of money.

Some also pretend to be Syrians, because their country is a safe country of origin and live with a sham industry of German wage increase see Frontal21 from 06.09.2016 and SpiegelTV. The always same mesh works according to WDR Current hour from 21.März 2018 so:

A fake employer quits a 5-member family with a wage of 500 euros. As a result, a benefit entitlement in Germany increases to 1,800 euros. The 1300 Euro reimburses the employment agency, without having to make a single finger krum.

In contrast to good Germans, migrants are not forced to take measures and threatened with sanctions by the job center because of their willingness to use violence. "Syrians" are not suitable for the catering, because "the service thought is rejected". Muslim women are not employable in social professions "because they are not allowed to touch men". For appointments at the employment office, they fly on budget airlines for 80 euros.

Roma Gypsies from Romanians are known as marmots for clawing. Entire groups of pickpockets from Romania often travel to Germany and France in order to cheat the German welfare state. See also ARD Kontraste vom 21.07.2016. Because of them already the Luvre and the Eiffel Tower had to be closed.
Also the so-called Enkeltrick is gladly used by Romaklans. Criminals in particular are not deported if they face penalties in their home country.

Shortly before the completion of the playground, the press got wind of the Social Affairs of the Swiss and interviewed the project manager.

At the same time, I took care of a new tire for the return journey. At a nearby workshop I was offered one

Tires with more than 1.6 mm profile including waste tire disposal and assembly for the equivalent of 10 euros.

The tire had a long cut in the carcass, but the specialist had mended it with a hose from the inside.

Of balancing one has surely heard nothing here: "No problem". He should be right. The tire stopped.

Just do not be so over-anxious and believe in the industry as most Germans.

The people in Moldova were simple but super friendly. At the roadside fruits were sold.

There were many wild dogs, but none did. In contrast, the many watchdogs were

pretty aggressive on almost every property. Hiding tents without being discovered would be difficult.

On the way back, however, I lived in my car, my little snail shell. Food was available at every supermarket.

Here was the freshest fish I had ever seen: still alive in large aquariums.

Many signs in Moldova were in Rusian. The orientation helped me with my GPS and numerous tank wrecks that always face west.

Since I could take my time, I put in photo breaks again and again. The humans lived here together with their animals in numerous

small farms. They have almost nothing, but are happier than many Germans.

Instead of wasting their lives in the office, they met to fetch water at the well and exchanged the latest gossip or took care of the harvest.

A farmer, who saw me running around, put a handful of prunes in my hand, but refused to accept my bill.

About Chisinau I drove towards Bucuresti. The departure from Moldova lasted a good 6 hours. The laziness of the border officials

was exceeded only by their incompetence. First time you tried to solve the problem "customer" by me 300 km

sent back. I have to leave at the same border where I came.

When I insisted that this information was wrong, I was sent several times from one counter to the other and back to the first one,

until after 3 hours between 19 °° and 20 °° Uhr change of the watch was and nothing went. Then the fun started from the beginning.

I should queue with the truck. When it was finally my turn, I should drive to the side and me

then back up again. When I refused to make room, the customs officer snapped at me. Finally came from the

A civil servant who spoke English grew up. Within 10 minutes, the carnet was finally stamped.

The entry to Romania or the EU one kilometer further was not easier. Whole buses in front of me were completely felted.

while their children were screaming, the travelers had to open their suitcases so the outrageous tax collectors between bras and underwear could dig for cigarettes,

while 50 cars were waiting in the back. A big economic damage because of a few euros tax.

Cigarettes in Moldova cost 1 euro per box, while in Romania they are 3 euros. I waited on the assumption that everything was OK with me

and truthfully gave a stake on the question of cigarettes. So far I have been allowed to bring a pole with every return flight.

Now I learned, however, by car (Maschina) I should introduce only 2 boxes. The remaining 8 boxes

I was stolen by the state. No one was interested in importing the machines, which cost more than 10,000 euros.

When I was finally over the border just before midnight, I parked in the next dirt road and spent a cozy

Night in the car. The rear end of the Opel Omega is fortunately with 2m long enough to be able to stretch completely.

The next morning we went on, passing numerous bills and Hünermastbetrieben.

Again and again I passed completely sunken sunflower fields. Why are not they harvested?

Even grapes were grown here and sold with other fruits on the roadside. Unlike the "developed" countries

They did not try to gamble on travelers with low speed limits and lightning. Only a bird or scarecrow much on me.

In the city of Bucharest there was a great deal of traffic chaos in the most ugly Soviet skyscrapers I had ever seen.

I was glad to leave the city, where wild dogs are allowed to be killed, quickly. I was looking forward to the highlight of this trip: the drive through the Carpathians virgin forests (which, although they are under protection, illegally cut down see Frontal21 broadcast from 29.10.2013) on the

Transfagarasan Pass Transfagaras High Road GPS N45 ° 36'208 "E024 ° 36'834", which was named "best road ... of the world" by British TV show Top Gear on episode 14 on November 15, 2009.

Coming from the south, the 7C started from Pitesti through the Carpathians mountains over daring bridges, unlit tunnels and past a large reservoir for hydroelectric power

up to 2034m. For the construction of these former military roads allegedly 6 thousand tons of dynamite were consumed.

At the top, traders offered the numerous tourists corn on the cob, fresh bread, delicious goat cheese and bellied meat.

When I arrived, it started to snow heavily. Nevertheless, I met here for the first time on motorcyclists.

The guys had to fight their wide tire on the snow quite a bit. In summer, however, the Transfagarasan trip is one of the best motorcycle tours.

The dealers are also hired on tourists from Germany. Stolz showed me his German - Romanian dictionary.

I spent a dry and warm night in the car and waited for sheep the next morning counting 4 hours,

until the fog cleared and I was able to photograph the many curves of the most beautiful road in the world.

It did not take long for the first German motorcycle "riders" to turn up on expensive 1200GS BMWs to prove their show that you can not buy driving skills.

In Hungary (Helvetia), to my astonishment, I found numerous petroleum pumps. Instead of a big oil boom, there were only many dilapidated houses there.

The city of Budapest turned out to be very nice. Busload Tourists made a pilgrimage to a hill to photograph statues
and enjoy the view of the city. In the hill there is a Church of the Holies, which was chiseled into the hard stone ages ago.
In Vienna, of course, I visited the legendary Ferris Wheel, the landmark of this city. From here, the driving fun was again very limited,
because instead of the beautiful area you had to constantly be careful not to be flashed from behind. The security is only pushed forward. As always, it's about money:
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8.
These measures are firmly scheduled in the budgets of the state governments.
It went by on Lake Starnberg to Munich. When I stopped here for a while to let riders out, I was verbally abused while a taxi driver immediately called the police.
Motorcycle tour Romania and Moldova
Welcome to the Land of Prohibitions ... I will not stay long ... the (her?) Next job is already waiting:
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